


Polaroid

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ficlet, M/M, Starfleet Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 23:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12945888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Spock sees a new side after the party.





	Polaroid

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Another one based on Taylor Swift’s “New Year’s Day” song.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He knew there would be no sleep last night, but fortunately, Vulcans can survive for several days without it. While his roommate smuggled half the campus into their compact dorm room, Spock relocated himself, choosing to spend the night in the twenty-four hour coffee shop across the street. The quiet Andorian waitress kindly left Spock in peace as he studied on his PADD, occasionally having to pause to delete messages from his less-than-sober roommate insisting he ‘come have a ball.’

Spock has no need for whatever Terran metaphor ‘a ball’ stands for. All he wants is to do well at the Academy and graduate with honours, make his way onto a ship, and eventually climb the ranks enough that he won’t have to share quarters with a human. Very few of them have proven as restrained and respectful as his mother. Even though he never regrets his choice of application to Starfleet Academy, Spock can’t help the small sting of knowing that if he were attending the Vulcan Science Academy, he’d _never_ be kicked out for a party.

He returns early in the afternoon rather than the morning, because he knows that Riley will sleep in, and so too might a few of his ‘friends.’ Spock has no desire to run into scantily clad, half-lucid stragglers. So he gives Riley enough time to straighten out, tidy up, and clear everyone away. Spock even rings the buzzer before he steps close enough for the automatic doors to scan him and swing open. He walks into his quarters and nearly drops his PADD.

The place is a _mess_. He knew it would be, but not like this—Spock could never have conceived of it, because he’s never seen such devastation. He gave plenty of time for Riley to pick up any stray debris, but the litter goes far beyond that, and it doesn’t look touched at all. The only living being in the room is indeed Riley—passed out horizontally across his bed—but the garbage everywhere looks like it’s been discarded by the entire populous of a small village.

Spock moves to take a step forward, wanting the doors closed and his shame hidden, but there’s nowhere to step. A stack of papers is glued to the floor in front of him, stuck down with some sort of spilled beverage, the carpet stained bright purple. A dirtied sweater lies half atop the upended plastic cup, and several burgundy bottles are sprinkled across the floor. There are more bottles than everything else. But there are also remnants of food, forgotten clothing, old fashioned paper, broken PADDS, sparkly strips of who-knows-what, and an undeterminable puddle of orange-brown in the corner by the Synthesizer. 

Spock’s stomach actually churns. He isn’t sure which is more shocking and appalling—the fact that sentient beings actually _made_ this mess, or the fact that not a single one remained to clean it up. Spock considers waking Riley up, but if Riley consumed as much alcohol as the empty bottles suggest, he likely won’t be able to do much more than stumble to the washroom when he wakes. 

When Spock sucks in a breath and thinks on it, there’s really only one thing that he can do. He picks his way carefully across the floor towards his own bed, which is disturbingly rumpled and shrouded in trash. He places his PADD on his cup-covered nightstand. Then he sets to picking up the bottles—he’ll cycle those first into recycling, then load up the waste disposal with the rest.

He’s just dumped the first armful when the buzzer sounds over the door, and Spock freezes, wondering if it’s a straggler come to collect something from the mess. Worse, perhaps it’s a professor come for a surprise inspection, which would likely result in expulsion, even though Spock had nothing to do with this misconduct.

The buzzer rings again, and Spock moves over to it anyway. He wouldn’t hide from a professor, and if it’s one of Riley’s friends, better they collect some of their things and make Spock’s job that little bit easier. He keys the doors open, and they slide apart to reveal another student. The illustrious James Kirk glances up at Spock, then stretches into a broad, nearly dizzying grin, so bright that Spock’s almost taken aback. He _knows_ of Jim Kirk, of course, but they have such little contact, even though they’re the Academy’s two top students. Spock is a hard worker and a dedicated student, and Kirk is...

Kirk greets, “’Morning,” with a flash of white teeth behind pink lips, his eyes startlingly blue. “I managed to squeeze a nap in there, but now I figure it’s time to face the music.” Spock’s eyebrows knit together, because there is no music in their vicinity. Maybe seeing that, Kirk explains, “I came to help clean up, I mean.”

And then, before Spock can answer, Jim’s slipped right past him, on into the cesspool. Spock steps back to let the doors close again and watches, stunned, as Kirk begins collecting bottles. He doesn’t move like someone ill-affected by alcohol, and he places the bottles succinctly in the recycler hatch. When he glances back in Spock’s direction, Spock forces himself to help, embarrassed over having been caught staring. 

For the first bit, they work in silence. There’s a lot to do, and Riley snores right through it, while Spock and Kirk efficiently take care of things. In off-duty jeans and a white shirt, Kirk looks strangely _handsome_ , which is something Spock’s always known but chosen not to dwell on. Though he recognized Kirk’s impressive intellect on the first class they took together, he made no moves beyond that. They’re in different branches—Kirk command and Spock science—and Kirk may as well be in a whole different _world_. Spock always thought him reckless, wild, far too much into recreation. 

But as they clean, they start to talk. First about classes, then space, then starships and the universe. By the time Spock’s quarters are spotless, Riley’s still out cold, and Kirk’s breathing a little hard, peach skin slightly flushed but smile still in place. Instead of leaving, he tells Spock, “Phew, that was a nightmare. It was worth it for last night though, right?” Spock doesn’t answer, because he wasn’t there, and he’s still trying to puzzle out the dichotomy that is James Kirk—somehow master of both parties and academics. Kirk just asks, “How about we celebrate it—do you want to go get some coffee?”

Spock spent all night in the very place that Kirk’s likely referring to. But he still says, “Yes,” and revises _some_ of his views on humans.


End file.
